Lord of the Hoodie
by Lynet Nar
Summary: This is a true story of my battle with the dress code! Okay, well, maybe I embellished it a little here and there... but the spirit is essentially the same! COMPLETE
1.

Note: I have changed many characters and some relationships between characters to fit my purposes (some of which you will not understand). Some changes are quite drastic, and I do not wish to offend anyone, so please remember that I mean no insult to the original characters or the actors. Also, I do not own lord of the rings, or anything connected to it, except some of the names in this fic.  
  
Lord of the Hoodie  
  
The fellowship of the hoodie  
  
I amar prestar aen. Han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae, a han noston ned 'wilith.  
  
The world is changed. I feel it in the pocket. I feel it in the drawstrings. I smell it in the cotton. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember to wash it.  
  
It began with the sewing of the great hoodies. Three were given to the elves, immortal, wisest, and fairest of all beings. Seven to the dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine. Nine hoodies were gifted to the race of men who above all else desire bower, for within these hoodies was bound the strength and will to govern each race.  
  
But they were all of them deceived, for another hoodie was made.  
  
In the land of Mordor, with the needles of Mount Loom, the dark lord Perron sewed in secret a master hoodie to control all others. And into this hoodie he poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life.  
  
One hoodie to rule them all.  
  
One by one, the free lands of Southern Tier fell to the power of the hoodie. But there were some who resisted. A last alliance of men and elves marched against the armies of Mordor. On the slopes of Mount Loom, they fought for the freedom of Southern Tier.  
  
(Elrond shouts)"Tangado haid! Leithio I philinn!"  
  
Victory was near. but the power of the hoodie could not be undone. It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Isildur, son of the king, ripped off the hoodie. Perron, the enemy of the free peoples of Southern Tier, was defeated. The hoodie passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever. But the hearts of men are easily corrupted, and the hoodie of power has a will of its own. It betrayed Isildur to his death, and some things that should not have been forgotten, were lost. History became legend, legend became myth, and for two and a half thousand years, the hoodie passed out of dress code. Until, when chance came, it ensnared a new wearer.  
  
"My precious."  
  
The hoodie came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Hooded Hills. And there, it consumed him.  
  
"It came to me, my own, my love, my own. My precious.."  
  
The hoodie brought to Gollum unnatural long life. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind. And in the gloom of Gollum's cave, it waited.  
  
Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the hoodie of power perceived its time had now come.  
  
It abandoned Gollum, but something happened then that the hoodie did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable: a hobbit, Bilbo Bag'ems, of the Shire.  
  
"A hoodie."  
  
"Lost!! My precious is lost!!..."  
  
For the time will soon come when hobbits will shape the fortunes of all. 


	2. The Shire:Bilbo's House

"The road goes ever on and on…" A wizard rode down the path in a wagon, singing 'slightly' off key. He was dressed in a grey robe with a gnarled staff in his hand, and he had shaggy brown hair with a badly receding hairline. Suddenly, a hobbit girl popped up.

"You're late."

"No I'm not. "

"Yes, you are."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"You're wrong." The hobbit pointed her finger.

"I am never wrong, Rosie Bag'ems; I am only mistaken."

"Whatever." She hopped onto the wagon, and it began moving.

"It's wonderful to see you, Andyalf! I see you lost more hair."

Andyalf glared at her.

"Um… I mean, well… um…. Watts up?"

"Well, things are pretty much stuck in a rut. We need to get a party going or something."

"Funny you should mention that. Me and Bilbo are having a joint birthday party. It'll be a blast. We've got tons of food, cool music, and wicked sweet presents. And you gotta do fireworks for us!"

"I just may. I think I'll go see Bilbo now."

"Ok. Seeya!"

Rosie jumped off the cart as they approached Bilbo's house.

Andyalf stopped in front of the gate, got out, and rapped on the front door.

A voice floated from inside.

"No, thank you! I don't want any visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"

"And what about very old friends?" Andyalf called.

The door opened and an old hobbit walked out.

"Andyalf?"

"Bilbo Bag'ems. What's this about you having a party and not inviting me?"

"Oh, um… the invitation must've gotten lost. Yeah, that's it, lost."

Andyalf glared.

"Come on, come in!" Bilbo beckoned nervously.

Andyalf shook his head.

"No. The last time I did, I got a migraine from running into your doorways."

"Oh. Well, do you want anything? I have cold chicken and a bit of pickle, or raspberry jam and apple tarts, or, I know! I have some sponge cake, or I could make you some eggs if you like."

"Just a Pepsi, thank you."

"What's that?" Bilbo scratched his head. "Whatever it is, I don't have it."

"Oh."

"But I've got a few bottles of the old winyard left, laid down by my father in 1296. Very good year; almost as old as I am."

"No, I only wanted a Pepsi."

"Well, why don't we sit on a hill and smoke our pipes?'

"No, that's not too healthy. When you get as old as I am, you have to start watching out for those things."

Bilbo began to look worried.

"You can still do fireworks at my party, right?"

"Of course."

"Oh, good. Andyalf, my friend, this will be a night to remember."


	3. The Shire:Bilbo's Party

Fireworks exploded. Music played and hobbits danced, laughed, ate, drank, and chattered. Hobbit-children giggled and chased each other. Over to the side, Bilbo crouched, recounting to the other young hobbits his adventure with the ogres. And in the midst of it all, Andyalf set off fireworks that burst into flowers, fluttering butterflies, and fiery rain.

Under the cover of the clamor, two hobbits crept towards an old wooden cart loaded with firecrackers. One climbed inside and grabbed the nearest squib.

"No, no!" whispered the other. " The big one, big one!"

Selecting a large red firecracker, the hobbit jumped out of the cart and dashed to the nearest tent. There, they lit it.

"Umm… shouldn't you stick it in the ground?" asked one as she pushed it away.

"It is in the ground!" the other replied and pushed it back.

"Outside?!!"

"This was your idea!"

The firecracker exploded, sailing into the sky, and bursting into a fiery red dragon. It swooped low over the crowd of hobbits, who screamed and dove for cover.

"Bilbo!" Rosie yelled." Look out for the dragon!"

"Dragon? What are you talking about? There's no dragon around here!"

The dragon soared into the distance and exploded in the distance. The hobbits cheered and resumed partying.

The two young hobbits sat covered in soot, stunned. They stood to watch the last of the sparks drop to the earth.

"Good times," the taller one said.

"Lets do it again!" replied her companion.

Suddenly, they found their ears being tugged, and they looked up at Andyalf.

"Meriadoc Wagnabuck and Huntagrin Took. Not the brightest cups of tea, are we?"

Soon, Merry and Hunter found themselves scrubbing dishes with Andyalf supervising, looking wistfully at his pipe.

The hobbits were seated at tables now, and demanded a speech. Bilbo walked to stand in front of a large cake before the crowd.

"My Dear Bag'ems's and Muffins!"

The hobbits cheered.

"Tooks and… um… Wagnabucks!"

They cheered again, though less enthusiastic.

"Uh…. Bubs?"

This time the cheering was scattered.

"…. Nubs?… no, that's not right. Oh, why can't I ever remember?" Bilbo dug in the pocket of his black hoodie and pulled out a scrap of paper.

"Here we go! Ah, Stubbs!"

The cheering resumed.  
"Noseblowers!"

More cheering.

"Buldgers!"

Still more cheering.

"Facegriddles!"

Cheering.

"And sweatyfoots!"

"Sweatyfeet!" came a cry through the cheering.

"Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday," Bilbo continued. "which is much to short a time to live here with you guys. I don't like more than half of you less than….. Wait, I know less of you then half of me would…er, no,…. i mean, I think the first half of you like the left half of …oh, never mind. I never could understand why I had to say that anyway. Just to confuse you, I suppose, and I think I've done a good job of that already."

Silence.

" What I really wanted to say was that I'm leaving.. Goodbye."

With that, Bilbo lifted the hood over his head and disappeared.


	4. The Shire: Bilbo's House again

The round green door swung open by itself, and then shut again. Inside, Bilbo appeared, having taken the hood off his head. Humming to himself, he bustled about his house, grabbing a walking stick as he passed through a doorway.

"I bet you think you're all that, don't you?"

Momentarily startled, Bilbo turned to see Andyalf.

"Oh, come on, Andyalf. Did you see their faces? It was priceless!"

"That hoodie is not a toy."

"I was just having a little fun! Oh, you're probably right, as usual." He crossed over to the mantelpiece to retrieve his pipe.

"Well, I'm never wrong, you know," Andyalf said. "I'm only—"

"Mistaken, I know." Bilbo finished. "I'm leaving everything to Rosie. You'll make sure she doesn't ruin it, right?"

"Of course." Andyalf responded. "Are you leaving the hoodie, too?"

Yes, yes. It's in an envelope, over there on the mantelpiece." Bilbo pointed.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Andyalf folded his arms. "A hoodie couldn't fit in an envelope! Besides, you're wearing it!"

Bilbo looked down at it.

"Oh. That's weird. Where is my mind going?"

"You are eleventy one," Andyalf remarked driely.

" Yes," Bilbo said. "I'm old. I should get to have what I want. Why can't I keep it? It's mine! "

"There's no need to get angry."

"Well if I'm angry, it's your fault! You wouldn't even let me put my name on the back!" Bilbo stroked the black cloth again. "Its mine, my own. My precious."

"Precious? You're starting to sound like that gollum thing."

"Eaugh! Ok, you win. There is no way I'm going to end up like that dude. I'm leaving now."

Bilbo picked up a pack, swung it onto his shoulders, and started for the door.

"Bilbo," Andyalf said. "You're still wearing the hoodie."

Bilbo sighed and set down his pack. He pulled off the hoodie, making his curly hair frizz with static electricity. He dangled it on his fingers before letting it fall to the floor with a dull, heavy….flop? He hurried outside with his pack, but halted halfway down the path. Andyalf stood in the doorway.

"I've thought up an ending for my book," the hobbit told him. "'and he lived happily ever after, 'till the end of his days.'"

"And I'm sure you will, " Andyalf replied. "But for heaven's sake, get some Pepsi! I can't see how you've lived so long without it."

"Um… ok. Goodbye, Andyalf." Bilbo extended his hand.

"Goodbye, Bilbo." The wizard shook it.

Bilbo wandered through the gate and on down the path, singing to himself.

Andyalf turned back into the small house. Bending over the hoodie that lay crumpled on the floor, he studied it. Slowly, he reached for it. He was within a millimeter of grasping it, when a fiery image flashed into his vision. It was a nose, wreathed in flames, turning towards him and inhaling deeply. Andyalf drew back.

He sat in a chair before the fireplace, staring, watching the flames dance with eyes that could not truly see. Words played in his mind like leaves in the wind, revolving, dropping, rising again.

Its mine………. My own………….. my precioussss……..

"Bilbo!" came a cry from outside. The door opened and Rosie burst in.

"Bilbo!" she halted suddenly at the hoodie. She stooped to pick it up. "He left? Without me?! How wude!." She came up beside the wizard. "Andyalf?"

He turned slowly as if pulling reluctantly from a dream.

"Bilbo left you bag end, along with all his possessions." Andyalf held out a length of brown paper, and Rosie laid the hoodie in it. Swiftly, the wizard wrapped it up and tied it with a string.

"Um… isn't it supposed to be in an envelope sealed with wax?" asked the hobbit girl.

"A hoodie would never fit into an envelope!" he protested. "Besides, this is one of my favorite things."

"Wrong movie."

"Well…. It doesn't matter.." He handed the package to Rosie. "Here. Put it somewhere out of sight." Suddenly, he rose.

"Where are you going?"

"I have things to do, people to see," Andyalf said as he rushed through the hall.

"What things?" Rosie followed him.

"Questions." Andyalf grabbed his hat and staff and turned around. "Questions that need answering."

"You've only just arrived!" she sighed in exasperation as Andyalf opened the door. "I don't understand."

"Neither do i." He responded solemnly. Abruptly, he stooped close to her and whispered, "keep it secret; keep it safe."

With that, he swept out of the house.


	5. Investigating the Hoodie

A black fortress loomed up, dark and ominous. A moat of boiling lava surrounded it. Torches blazed in the perpetual night, as dorcs roved about involved in their own ugly business. From inside the fortress, piercing cries could be heard. In the midst of the agonizing clamor, two words became distinct.

"Shire!! Bag'ems!!!"

The gates burst open and nine riders pounded through, black cloaks swirling, and their mounts braying wildly.

…

Andyalf, riding over rocky hills, turned to gaze anxiously at the fiery light emanating from the distant Mount Loom. He sped on, and soon reached a monastery where records were kept. He was shown to a dim room filled with books and volumes. The wizard worked long and hard, sorting through parchments and records, until he found the pages he sought. He read to himself," The year 3434 of the Second Age. Here follows the account of Isildur, High King of Gondor, and the finding of the Hoodie of Power.

"It has come to me, the one hoodie. It shall be an heirloom of my kingdom. All those who follow in my bloodline shall be bound to its fate, for I will risk no hurt to the hoodie. It is precious to me, though I buy it with a great pain.

" The markings upon the back begin to fade. The writing, which at first was as clear as silver frost, has all but disappeared, a secret now that only an iron can tell.

…

A hobbit stood chopping wood. His dog wandered through the open door of the hobbit hole. Suddenly, he began to bark as hoof beats pounded up the path. They stopped.

"No!" a gravely voice hissed. "You're not supposed to stop here! You're supposed to stop over there!" A black sleeve was flung in the direction of the hobbit and his dog, still a good eight yards down the road.

The black donkey turned his head to look unflinchingly at his weightless rider.

"How am I going to ask about the Shire and Bag'ems if you can't stop in the right place? You want me to shout it to all of Middle Earth?"

Slowly and defiantly, the donkey sat down.

The black-cloaked figure threw his sleeves in the air.

"Fine! Be that way! I'll just walk over there myself!" He dismounted and marched down the path on iron shoes. He stopped to tower above the hobbit as the dog backed into the hole.

"Shiiiiiiirrrrrre…….." he hissed. "Baaaaag'emmmmmssss……."

"Th-there's no Bag'ems's around here," the hobbit stammered. "They're all up in Hobbiton. That way!" he pointed as he retreated through the door.

The black rider turned back to his stubborn mount. After mush tugging and pushing, he finally got the beast to its feet. As it sauntered down the road, the rider muttered to himself. The mist closed in as he screeched, "No! Stupid animal! Now is not the time for a snack!"


	6. The Shire: Bilbo's House yet again

Rosie returned home late at night only to find windows open and papers blowing about. Stepping cautiously into the room, she looked about warily. Suddenly, a hand grasped her shoulder. Whirling her around, Andyalf whispered, "is it secret? Is it safe?"

"Holy flippin' pancakes! Don't sneak up on me like that!" Rosie yelped.

She dug in a trunk until she found the brown package.

"Here it is!" she held it up, and Andyalf snatched it away, ripping off the paper.

"Hey,what do you think you're doing?" Rosie cried as the balding wizard set up an ironing board.

Not answering, he spread the hoodie on the ironing board and plugged in the iron. Then he sat in a chair.

"We have to wait for it to heat up," he explained.

"Oh." Rosie sat in a chair next to him.

After a moment of silence, Andyalf jumped up. Bending over the hobbit-sized ironing board, he sprayed the hoodie with water and began ironing. Rosie looked on.

"You missed a spot," she said helpfully.

Andyalf did not reply.

" Oops! You just ironed in a wrinkle!"

Still no reply.

"Don't iron so long in one place! You'll scorch the fabric!"

"Will you be quiet and let me iron?!" Andyalf exploded.

"Well, cheeze. You're grateful."

"Take it now, since you're the expert," the wizard grumbled.

She picked up the hoodie.

"Is there anything on it?" Andyalf turned away from her for his dramatic close-up.

"Hey," the hobbit responded indignantly, "I'm not that messy an eater!"

Andyalf sighed.

"Woah, look at this!" she said. "There are markings. Silver decals on the front, back and sleeve. They're some form of elfish. I can't read it."

His dramatic close-up over, Andyalf turned back to Rosie. "I says, 'One hoodie to rule them all, One hoodie to find them. One hoodie to bring them all, and in the darkness, bind them.' Not many people can read it."

"Well, aren't you special?"

"Ok, so here's the deal, " Andyalf said, "There's this bad guy in Mordor, the dark lord Perron. This is his hoodie. He wants it back. He sent nine riders to get it for him. If he gets this hoodie, he will destroy Southern Tier. I can't take it, and it cannot stay in the shire. So you have to leave quickly. Make for Bree. I'll meet you at the inn of the Prancing Pony."

Rosie hurried to pack her things. "So the hoodie will be safe in Bree?"

"I don't know. But the head of my council will. He is both wise and powerful. The name Bag'ems isn't safe outside the Shire anymore. You'll have to use another one. Travel only by day, and stay off the roads."

"I'm not totally ignorant. I know what to do."

A rustling could suddenly be heard outside of the window.

"Get down," Andyalf whispered.

Rosie dropped her pack and began doing the disco.

Andyalf clapped his hand to his forehead. "No! Get down as in drop to the floor!!"

"Oh." She did so.

Stealthily, the wizard approached the window. He struck out in the bushes with his staff.

"OW!"

Andyalf reached down and pulled up a hobbit, Rosie's gardener. He flung him onto the table.

"Wilibald Gamgee! Have you been eavesdropping?"

"I haven't been dropping no eaves, sir, honest," he protested. "The grass just looked a little long, and I decided to cut it."

" You couldn't think of a better story than that?"

"I've never been very good at spontaneity."

"Did you hear anything?" Andyalf demanded.

"N-nothing important! I mean,, I heard a lot about a hoodie, and a dark lord, and something about the end of the world, but nothing important, I swear."

"You better not breath a word of what you heard here, Wil," Rosie broke in, "or I hope Andyalf turns you into a spotted toad and fills the garden full of grass-snakes!"

"No," Andyalf mused. "Perhaps not. " He looked at Wil with an evil glint in his eye. "I've thought of a better use for you."


	7. Isengard

Andyalf sent Rosie on her way, now wearing the hoodie under her cloak, with Wil accompanying her. While they walked through fields quoting dear old Bilbo, the wizard made his way swiftly toward Isengard to visit the head of his order, who, unsettlingly, seemed to know the precise nature of the visit. The elder wizard stood on the steps to his obsidian tower, clothed in white.

"Puffkinman," Andyalf greeted him solemnly.

They sat inside the tower. Puffkinman spoke, lifting his eyebrows.

"Perron is regaining much strength. He still doesn't have a body, but his spirit is just as strong. His reach extends everywhere. You know of what I speak. A great nose, wreathed in flame."

"The nose of Perron," Andyalf said knowingly.

"Perron is amassing a great army," Puffkinman continued, raising and lowering his eyebrows as he spoke.

For a moment, Andyalf was held in somewhat of a trance watching the movement of Puffkinman's eyebrows. He shook himself out of it.

"What? How do you know?"

The wizard snatched off his hat so that Andyalf could look into the reflection in his bald head, broken only by a small puff of hair at the top.

"But that's dangerous!" the wizard in grey cried. "They are not all accounted for, the lost shiny-heads." He jammed the hat back on Puffkinman's head.

"It's later than you realize," the white wizard said. "Perron has come to power, and he know where the hoodie is."

"Rosie!" Andyalf gasped. He made for the door, but Puffkinman slammed it, and the other three leading from the chamber.

"No one can stand against Perron." He raised his eyebrows a few times. "We must join him."

"You're crazy!"

Outraged, Puffkinman slammed the other wizard into the wall. A battle of will and powers ensued, with Andyalf on the losing end.


	8. Journey to Bree

Wil was lost in a cornfield. Well, he wasn't really lost so much as he had lost track of Rosie.

"Rosie? Rosie!"

Rosie's head popped from around a bend in the path.

"Did'ya miss me?"

Wil scowled.

"No. I just made a promise to Andyalf to protect you, and I don't want him to turn me into a toad."

"Come on, Wil. We're still in the shire. Why do I need protecting here?"

"Actually," Wil mused, "being a toad might not be so bad."

Rosie looked around. "What could possibly happen?" she said louder.

"I wish I were a toad."

"Hello!" Rosie shouted, ignoring Wil. "That's your cue!"

Suddenly, two piles of vegetables with curly hair and feet stumbled out of the corn and ran into Wil and Rosie. Vegetables flew everywhere, revealing the tardy hobbits.

"Sorry," Hunter said, abnormally short, even for a hobbit. "Merry got us lost."

A baying dog interrupted them, and Merry shoved vegetables into Wil's arms. "Here, take these," she said, and took off through the cornfield, the others close behind.

"I don't see why Farmer Maggot is so upset," Hunter said as he ran. "We only stole half of his crops." He stopped abruptly at the edge of a small cliff. The others slammed into him, tipping them all over.

"Ow."

The hobbits lay in a heap at the bottom of the cliff.

"I think I broke something," said one.

"I think my nose fell off," said Wil.

"Hey! Mushrooms!" said Hunter.

"I don't like mushrooms," said Wil.

"You're insane!!" cried the other three.

"Get off the road!" said Rosie.

The four scrambled into a conveniently located hole at the foot of a tree. A donkey ambled down the path. A clan sounded as the rider jumped off and began sniffing around the ground. Rosie slowly reached for the hood on her sweatshirt. Wil's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Hey!" hissed the rider. "Come back here!" The donkey had wandered off without him. As he ran after it, the hobbits dashed in the other direction.

Running through the sudden darkness, Rosie blurted out her plan to go to Bree. Merry led them to the ferry (in a sort of round-about kind of way) with the black rider close behind. Hunter, Wil, and merry piled onto the ferry and foolishly pushed off without Rosie.

"Come on, Rosie!" merry shouted. "Jump! You can make it!"

"No I cant!" she yelled back, running full speed.

"Yes you can!" hunter called.

"No I cant!"

"Just jump!" the three cried in unison.

Rosie jumped.

SPLASH!!!!

The ferry drifted down the river, with Rosie in the water, clinging to the edge. The hobbits pulled her up and solemnly watched as the black donkey stopped on the bank and sat down.

"How far is it to the next crossing, merry?" Rosie asked.

"It's just over there," she pointed to a bridge upstream, "but considering the donkey, we have a huge lead."

"I wish I had a nose." Wil said.


	9. Bree

Bang, bang, bang!

A little door opened in the gate, and a man peered through.

"Waddaya want?"

"That's none of your business," Rosie replied. "Let us in!"

"Ok." The man opened the big door. "They say there's strange folk about, and I'm supposed to keep guard, but I'll let you in without answers to my questions."

The four hobbits walked through the gate into the rainy streets of Bree. Cue PJ's cameo with a carrot.

Inside the Prancing Pony, Rosie inquired about Andyalf.

"Andyalf?" the innkeeper Butterbur mused. "Oh, the old wizard with the thin hair and the goofy smile? Not seen him in six months."

Rosie rolled her eyes.

"Oh, that's just great. We'll just have some rootbeer floats and wait for him over there."

The hobbits sat at an oversized table on oversized stools nursing oversized mugs of rootbeer floats. (alcohol stunts your growth, and those four need as much height as they can get)

"Hey, Rosie," Wil whispered. "That guy over there keeps looking at you. I think he's got some real issues."

Rosie looked to the corner to see a cloaked figure in the corner. She called Butterbur over to ask about him.

"Him? Oh, no one really knows. We think of him as the dark scary guy always lurking in the shadows, but you can call him strider Denser than a forest in a fog, that one."

Rosie contemplated this while Wil drained the last of his float. She was brought out of her reverie by Merry and Hunter talking loudly at the bar about their odd hobbit relations.

"Hunter! NO!"

Rosie ran towards them, but tripped over an infinitesimal crack in the floor and fell flat on her face. The hood dropped over her head, turning her invisible. A low muttering echoed through her head. She looked up to see a great nose of fire blazing in front of her.

"I know what you did last summer," it murmured.

Rosie gasped.

"You do not! How could you know?"

In the distance, donkeys brayed evilly.

Rosie backed away from the nose until she bumped into something and took off her hood.

Suddenly, she was yanked from under the table and pulled upstairs. She was flung into a dark room. A bed sat against one wall, and a chair with a broken back in the corner served as a chair. Heavy drapes covered the windows, and the scary cloaked man was busily snuffing out the candles.

"Who are you and what the pickle dust do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"You carry no trinket," he grunted. "Makes you invisible. Rare gift. Scared?

"A little…" she admitted warily.

"Not enough."

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Strider drew his sword (which should have been shattered…) as the other three hobbits stormed in looking ready to take on a whole army.

Strider sheathed his sword and said, "Stout heart, but need more. Let's go. They're coming."

…

The gatekeeper started at the sound of belligerent braying. He got up to investigate.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, one of the nazgul was trying to get his donkey, who kept wanting to turn around, to charge the gate. At the precise moment the gatekeeper looked out, the donkey wheeled and fell on the door, smashing it to the ground.

"Well, that's one way to do it," commented another nazgul as he rode through on his donkey.

The four nazgul abandoned their donkeys halfway down the street, finding it faster to go on foot. They breezed silently into the inn, despite their clanky iron shoes, and positioned themselves around the hobbits's beds.

Wil stirred in his sleep.

"Keeters………" he muttered, "………thine alabaster ooze……… long may it jiggle………"

The nazgul carefully lifted their swords point down over the four small figured huddled under the blankets. At some unspoken signal, they stabbed downward viciously, ripping through the mattresses to the floor.

Wil woke with a gasp.

The nazgul continued mutilating the still lumps. Then they whipped back the covers, only to find murdered pillows, still bleeding feathers. Screaming in a pitch no man should be able to reach, they fled the inn to find their mounts and… saunter off into the night.

…

"What are they?" Rosie asked, safe in another room.

"Nazgul," Strider muttered. "Not dead, not alive. Evil."


	10. Weathertop

The four hobbits and the laconic Strider traipsed through the woods. Hunter stopped and began pulling things out of his bag.

"Don't stop," Strider said.

"But what about breakfast?" the short hobbit protested.

"Had it."

"We had one, yes. But what about second breakfast?"

Strider didn't respond but kept walking.

"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Hunter," Merry said.

"What about elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't count on it." Merry caught an apple and tossed it to Hunter. He stood holding the apple until another hit his head.

…

Puffkinman waved his long, wicked press-on nails over his shiny-head as he stared at it in his mirror. It glowed red around the puffkin of hair and the image of a fiery nose appeared.

"What do you require, O Odiferous One?"

"Build me an army…" the nose commanded.

…

Andyalf slowly got to his feet. He was on top of Orthanc, the obsidian tower touching the sky. Great bonfires below appeared small as lightning bugs.

…

Puffkinman stood amidst his dorcs, laughing maniacally as trees were pulled down.

"Yes! Yes! Begone, vile trees! Uproot them! Tear them out by their roots! Drag them away and burn them! Ha, ha, ha, ha!!!

…

Strider stopped momentarily and pointed at a large hill with ruined fortifications on it.

"Weathertop."

Once they were on the hill getting set for the night, Strider doled out short swords. Then he left, grunting, "Be back."

…

Rosie woke to the murmur of hobbit voices and the flicker of a fire.

"……at the gym, you know, like lifting weights……" Hunter was saying.

"Time's up!" Wil said.

"Curling iron!" Hunter exploded.

Merry began to laugh.

"You were thinking of pumping iron, weren't you? You use a curling iron to curl your hair!"

"What are you doing?!?" Rosie demanded.

"Having a snack while playing Catch Phrase," Wil responded. "Wanna join? It'll make the teams even."

"Idiots! Put out the fire! Put it out!" Rosie kicked dirt on the flames, not being fool enough to step on it, no matter how tough her feet were.

An unearthly scream sounded in the not-so-distance. The four friends grabbed their swords and ran to the open space at the top, standing in a circle facing outwards. The cloaked nazgul began to close in. The hobbits surrounded Rosie, trying to protect her, but they were swept aside. Rosie backed away and fell against a stone wall. Without taking her eyes from the advancing nazgul, she lifted the hood. Suddenly, where there had been dark void inside the cloaks there were white robes and crowns and long pale hands and wrinkled faces that looked like they'd been sucking on lemons for a hundred years. The king of the nazgul reached for the drawstrings Rosie was unconsciously offering. Just before he touched them, she pulled them back against her chest. Infuriated, the nazgul jabbed at her shoulder with his blade.

Then a shadowy figure carrying a sword and a bright brand leapt from nowhere. It swung at nazgul after nazgul, forcing them to retreat. Rosie removed the hood to see that Strider had come back and was driving the nazgul off weathertop. Then her mind was wrenched back to the agony in her shoulder and she let out a gasping cry.

"No! Rosie!" Wil called. "Help her!"

Strider knelt next to the hobbit and inspected the wound. Then he grunted as he picked up the nazgul's sword.

"Morgul."

The blade disintegrated and he dropped it.

"Needs elvish medicine."


	11. The Ford

Clangs sounded in deep caverns and chasms at Isengard. High above the clamor, a moth fluttered toward Orthanc. As it passed over the obsidian tower, Andyalf gently captured it in his hand. He whispered to it and sent it on its mission. Meanwhile, far below dorcs fashioned weapons and armor and dug sacs out of the mud. One of the sacs burst open and a hulking monster grabbed a dorc by the neck, squeezing until it died. Puffkinman looked on in approval.

…

They stopped in a clearing with large stone statues.

"Look, Rosie," Wil said in an attempt to lighten the mood. "It's Mr. Bilbo's trolls!"

"Trolls?" Merry looked up.

"That's what I said."

Aragorn drew Wil aside.

"Kingsfoil," he said urgently, and turned into the woods, apparently looking for some.

…

Aragorn spotted a weed, and knelt to cut it. Suddenly, the tip of a sword rested under his chin.

"What's this?" came a voice. "A ranger caught off his guard?"

…

Rosie, her eyes clouded over, gasped for breath. A whispering voice floated on the breeze. The hobbit looked over through the haze and saw a young elf, her brown hair cut short. Her right eye was green and her left blue, but both were pale. The elvish words comforted Rosie.

…

"She's turning into a wraith." Megwen said. "She's fading; she won't last."

Aragorn grunted and pushed some kingsfoil into the wound. Rosie gasped in pain.

"We have to get her to my father," the elf continued. Aragorn obediently carried Rosie to Megwen's horse.

"Stay," Aragorn told her.

"I don't think so. I'm a better rider, and I can protect her if I get across the river. Besides, no one but me rides Raumo Liltar."

He shrugged and reached for her hand, but she pulled back.

"Six inches!" she admonished.

He glared at her, then shrugged again and said, "Ride hard."

Megwen mounted Raumo Liltar and rode into the dark.

After several seconds, Wil added a dramatic flair.

"DUN, DUN, DUN!"

…

In the sudden daylight, Raumo Liltar trotted leisurely through the trees, even though the braying of donkeys could be heard not far away. Behind them, a nazgul shrieked as his steed plodded along. To their right, a steel hand reached toward them. The nazgul's donkey, however, was more interested in a patch of clover, and Megwen's horse pranced on by. One Nazgul raced past them, and flew off his donkey as it sat down abruptly. Three more astride the least stubborn of the beasts came behind them, inciting Raumo Liltar to break into a light canter. The river was in sight when a mounted nazgul planted itself suddenly in their path, causing that freaky-scary music to play. (think Finding Nemo, when Darla opens the door and the picture falls down)

"No! Not the fweep-fweep music!!" Megwen cried. Raumo Liltar, not bothered by the fweep-fweep music, detoured around the nazgul and made his way calmly into the river. After some time all nine riders had gathered on the bank.

"Give up the Halfling, fly-girl!" the dark king hissed.

Megwen drew her sword.

"If you want her, come and claim her!" she challenged.

The nine drew their own swords but the donkeys did not want to go into the water. Some sat, some stooped for a drink, and some just stood there. Finally, the nazgul dismounted and piled into the river. Megwen uttered some cool sounding elvish words, and the river surged around the nine, washing them away.

Then Rosie lost consciousness.

…

For those who want to know, Raumo Liltar is roughly translated, "thunder dancer"


	12. Rivendell

"Where am I?"

"You are in the house of K-rond, and it is 10:00 in the morning on October the twenty-fourth if you want to know."

"Andyalf?" Rosie sat up in the large bed to see the wizard sitting in a chair beside her. "How did you get here?"

Cue Andyalf's flashback.

…

"You want these? Huh?" Puffkinman's eyebrows went up and down as he dangled a package of ho-ho's and a bottle of Pepsi in front of Andyalf's face. "Well, you can't have them!" He kicked Andyalf to the edge of the tower. "Not unless you join us," he said, tossing the soda and snacks just out of reach. "You can have power!"

A white moth fluttered past.

"There is only one lord of the hoodie," Andyalf retorted, "and he does not share power." Andyalf jumped off the tower and landed on a giant…… Michelin Man blimp? Andyalf clung desperately to the marshmallow-like tire mascot and called to the nearby moth.

"Hey, what happened to the eagle?"

"He was busy."

…

"Andyalf?" Rosie's voice brought him back to the present. "Man, you were really spaced out there for a minute."

"ROAR!!" Wil jumped into the room. "You're awake!"

…

Rosie and Wil wandered outside looking at the glory of Rivendell. Hunter and Merry ran out to join them with shouts and laughter. Rosie then spotted Bilbo sitting on a bench. She ran over to him, and immediately the volume he was holding caught her eye.

"Bilbo! You finished your book! Cool!"

After chatting with him for a bit, she wandered over to where Wil was packing their things.

"Why are you packing?"

"Bet you'd like to know, wouldn't ya?" he said.

"Yeesss…… that's why I asked."

"Oh. I want to go home."

…

Andyalf stood with K-rond, looking down at the hobbits.

"She's strong," K-rond said, "to resist the hoodie." The large elf with his close-cropped hair and red buffalo sewn to his elven robes, returned his copy of Mein Kampf to his bookshelf.

"She should never have had it," Andyalf said.

"The hoodie cannot stay here, Andyalf." K-rond crossed over the large swastika inlaid in the floor and looked out the window again. "No one can protect it. Elves are leaving, dwarves are uninterested, and men are weak."

"One man can—" Andyalf began.

"Ha! Right. You know, this reminds me of the French Revolution. Did I ever tell you……"

Andyalf groaned.

…

Aragorn sat silently in the shadows. A short young man with blond hair wandered in. He stepped over to where the shards of Narsil were displayed.

"Hey cool!" he said. " A sword. Still broken." He sliced open his finger. "Ouch! Hey, still sharp, too." He then turned to see Aragorn.

"Who needs a stupid broken sword anyway?"

He dropped it and walked away.

Aragorn crossed to the blade and placed it reverently back on it's pedestal.

"Hey," Megwen said as she entered. "you gotta be strong. You're not Isildur. It's all up to you."

Aragorn grunted, so she tried a different approach and began speaking fluent elvish.

"Huh?" Aragorn said.

Suddenly, they stood on a bridge.

"Whoa, that was weird." Megwen said. Then in elvish, "Aragorn, you are so cool."

He nodded.

"I think I'll give up my immortality for you."

Aragorn leaned in to kiss her.

"Hey, six inches, remember?"


	13. Rivendell: the council of Elrond

"Strangers from distant lands," K-rond began, "I find us in a very interesting predicament. We have supreme evil intent on making us slaves or wiping us all out. Now, it's interesting to note the similarities between our situation and the French Revolution." The large elf was beginning to get excited now, and he paced back and forth. He rushed over to a blackboard and snatched up a piece of chalk.

"It's as if we were all grass. We have the nobles, the aristocracy, down here the peasants…" He began to draw various sized spiky things, presumably blades of grass.

Behind him, those assembles at the council began to fall asleep. Bobomir leaned heavily on his neighbor, the dwarf Imlig Otrec, and she herself was busily writing notes to another dwarf. Yawning, Legolson absently began strumming his guitar softly. Rosie's eyes drooped, and Aragorn was dead to the world, his snoring accompanying the guitar.

"…wants to cut us all off, make us the same level…" K-rond continued, drawing a horizontal line through the "grass."

Wil fell out of his chair, sound asleep.

K-rond whipped around and pointed his finger.

"That's a leftist attitude right there!" he cried, startling everyone awake.

"Huh? Whaaaa……… g'mornin'…… I don' wanna go to school, mommy….." they all mumbled.

"And that brings me to my point," the elf continued, suddenly calm. "Bring forth the hoodie, Rosie."

Rosie stood and walked to the pedestal in the middle of the courtyard. She slowly pulled off the hoodie and placed it on the pedestal.

As she sat back down, Bobomir stroked his chin. "Wow. That's a cool hoodie. Wish I could have it."

"No," Aragorn grunted.

"Psh. Whatta you know? You're just a ranger."

"Hey, dude, look," Legolson stood, still holding his guitar. "He's not just a ranger. He's Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor."

"Sit," Aragorn muttered in elvish.

"Ha!" Bobomir said as he took his seat. "No one can rule over me!"

"There's obviously only one thing to do," K-rond said. "It must be destroyed!" He emphasized the last three words by pounding his fist on his palm.

"Ok!" Imlig hopped out of her chair, her long brown curls flying, and pulled out her huge battle scissors. But when she attempted to cut off the hood, the blades snapped and sent her flying across the floor.

"Oww!"

"Imlig Otrec," K-rond said patiently, "you can't destroy it with any weapon. It has to be unmade where it was made: Mount Loom. One of you has to take it."

"Duh!" Bobomir burst out. "You can't just walk into Mordor! I mean, the air there is even worse than hospital food!"

Collective gasp.

"Yeah, and it's not like you can just walk up to Perron and say, 'Excuse me, could you let me into Mount Loom, I'd like to destroy your hoodie.'"

"Didn't you hear anything?" Legolson leaped to his feet again. "It's gotta be destroyed!"

"And I bet you think you can do it, " Imlig, now recovered, also rose.

"And what if Perron gets it back?! Bobomir yelled. "What then? I don't want to be around if that happens!"

"I will be dead before I see the hoodie in the hands of an elf!" Imlig exploded.

The whole council then stood, coming to the defense of their respective races. Through the angry babble, Rosie could hear the hoodie whispering to her, and she knew what she had to do. She stood.

"I will take it!" She cried out.

No one heard her.

"I said, I will take it!!"

The voices subsided, and one by one they all looked at her.

She repeated herself more calmly.

"I will take the—" she paused and stiffened as she spotted a scuffmark on the stone floor. "—hoodie to Mordor," she finished as she rubbed out the mark with her toe. Then she looked up. "Though, I do not know the way."

"Well, then, I'll show you," Andyalf said, and stood next to her.

Aragorn grunted and approached them.

"And you have my knives," Legolson said, joining the group.

"And my scissors!" Imlig said, obviously forgetting her previous grudge against the elf.

"Hey, I'm coming, too!" Bobomir said. "There's no way I'm letting that cool hoodie outta my sight… I mean… Gondor will see it done."

"Rosie's not going anywhere without me," Wil said, going to stand by his friend. "She's still borrowing my book, and I want it back," he added.

Then Merry and Hunter dashed up.

"We're not going to miss the fun, are we?" The short hobbit said.

"Not a chance, brother."

"Fine, fine, I give up! You can go," K-rond said. "You shall be the Fellowship of the Hoodie!"

crickets chirping

"Dun! Dun! Dun!" Wil said.

…

"Here's my old sword, Sting," Bilbo said. "You're going to need it."

Rosie unsheathed the sword and swung it experimentally.

"Cool!"

"It glows blue when there's dorcs about," Bilbo added.

"Even better!"

"Here's something else," Bilbo said, and pulled out a sparkling silver shirt.

"Ooohh, pretty!"

It's mithril. Light as a feather, and as hard as dragon scales. C'mon, put it on!"

"Eww! Not in front of you!"

"You can put it on over your shirt."

"Oh, ok."

Rosie pulled off her cloak, and Bilbo spotted the hoodie she wore.

"My old hoodie," he said. "If only I could wear it once more…"

"Sicko! I'm not taking it off!" Rosie put her cloak back on.

Suddenly, Bilbo's eyes bulged out, and he barred his teeth, jumping at her with a hissing snarl.

Rosie screamed. "Holy flippin' pancakes! What are you?!"

Just as suddenly, the old hobbit sat down and began crying, wailing that he was sorry.

"Y'know, you really should see a doctor or something," Rosie said, backing out the door.


	14. Caradhras

So the Fellowship set off. Rosie wore the mithril corselet under the hoodie and cloak, and in addition to Sting at her side, she had tucked in her pocket Lanod, her trusty plastic butter knife. They paused for a rest on a rocky hilltop. While the others sat, Bobomir practiced swordfighting with Merry and Hunter.

"Why doesn't anyone ask my advice?" Ilmig complained cheerfully. "We could go through Moria. We'd have a blast!"

"I don't think so, Ilmig," Andyalf said, casting a forlorn glance at his pipe next to him.

Legolson studied a wispy cloud, chewing on his match apprehensively

A few feet away, Hunter tugged on Bobomir's sleeve and whispered in his ear.

"What? Why?" Bobomir questioned.

"Just say it!" the short hobbit demanded.

"Ok… marrying Merry is like marrying a goat."

"What?!" Merry burst out. "I can't believe you would say that!"

Soon, Bobomir was on the ground, being attacked by Merry and Hunter, who had, curiously enough, come to his sister's aid.

Now the others began to notice the cloud. It had an odd, disjointed look, and it moved quickly against the wind.

Legolson's eyes grew wide.

"Crebain from Dunland!"

In a brilliant flash of insight, Aragorn bellowed, "Hide!" at the top of his lungs. They scurried about, wedging themselves and their gear under the rocks just before a flock of evil looking crow like birds swept past. When they were gone, the nine emerged.

"Spies of Puffkinman," Andyalf muttered. "We have to go a different way now. Caradhras!"

The fellowship marched through the brilliant snow up the slope of the mountains. Rosie slipped and tumbled down the hill, her hoodie somehow coming off in the process. She stood shivering in her shortsleeved tunic as Bobomir picked up the hoodie and stared at it. Aragorn grunted a warning.

"Weird," Bobomir muttered, "everyone's being so stupid over this…… sweatshirt!"

"Bobomir!" Aragorn said. He nodded at Rosie.

The future steward of Gondor approached them.

"Sure. What would I want with a stupid hoodie anyway?"

…

The mountain was now steeper, and the snow swirled around them and mired them to the waist.

Rosie, clinging to Aragorn to keep her head above the surface, glared at Legolson as he strolled past, hardly making footprints in the drifts.

"I'd stick out my tongue if I weren't afraid it'd freeze," she muttered.

Wil, on the dúnadan's other side, asked her, "Can I throw my shoe at him?"

"Wil, you don't wear shoes."

"Hey, I hear somethin'!" Legolson said. "And man, this guy really sounds screwed up."

"It's Puffkinman!" Andyalf yelled.

They heard a rumble, and rocks and snow fell down on them.

"Andyalf!" Ilmig cried. "Oh, help me! Everyone knows you don't yell in an avalanche zone!"

"I know what I'm doing." He stood and shouted some more words. More snow came down and buried them. They surfaced after a moment, gasping and blue in the face. They shouted at each other, professing the merits of pressing on, passing through the gap of Rohan, or through Moria.

Finally, Andyalf said, "Let the hoodie-bearer decide."

They all looked to Rosie expectantly. She shivered.

"I don't care, as long as we get out of the cold. This is so like an industrial strength vacuum cleaner. It really sux. How 'bout Moria?"

"Fine," the wizard replied.

"I hate snow," Rosie mumbled. "I really do."


	15. Moria

The fellowship of the Hoodie navigated around a mist-shrouded lake in the heart of the Hooded Hills. They came to a halt in front of a moonlit door of stone.

Andyalf read the inscription above the door.

"'The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter.'"

"Friend!" Rosie cried cheekily.

"Really, Rosie," the balding wizard said. "Let me open it."

He then proceeded to mutter elvish and dwarvish words at the unyielding stone.

Half an hour later, Ilmig had pulled out the copy of Mein Kompf that K-rond had lent her, Aragorn was sleeping, Bobomir was attempting to egg and TP the walls of Moria, Rosie and Wil were playing tig tag tog: dilching style with a hacky sack, Legolson was playing and singing one of his songs, and Hunter and Merry had started and impromptu rock-skipping contest.

"You just tigged on a tog!" Rosie accused.

"I did not. That was a tag."

"It was more of a tiggle-tag," she conceded, "and that's highly irregular."

"But it's Tuesday the tenth!" Wil countered. "So I get an Orli point because it was in your realm."

"No, you already have a double triple Orli, and on Tuesday the tenth of the year of the tiger, that means you have to dance with a manatee made from a tutu and a honey-dew mellon."

At Rosie's last word, the stone doors creaked open.

Andyalf immediately stood, trying to look important.

"See? I'm never wrong. I was just taking my time."

"How did he do that?" Merry whispered.

"It's maaagic!" Rosie told her.

"All right!" Ilmig dashed into the dark cavern. "Party time! I know a guy here who makes the best wings. This place is so cool. And they call it a mine. Oh, help me, a mine!"

"What the myrrh!" Hunter yelped as the light reflecting off Andyalf's head lit the room.

"This place isn't a mine," Bobomir said. "It's a frickin' tomb!"

Only then did everyone notice the skeletons littering the floor that they would have had to step over to get in.

"Out!" Aragorn grunted.

Everybody began backing toward the door.

Suddenly, Rosie was yanked off her feet and dragged toward the water. Wil hacked at the tentacle holding her ankle, while the other two hobbits pulled on Rosie from the other direction. The tentacle retreated, but myriads of others launched from the water, lifting Rosie high and knocking the others aside. As Aragorn and Bobomir sliced through the rubbery skin, Legolson jumped into the fray wielding a large hunting knife and a machete, while Ilmig neatly severed the monster's limbs with her formidable battle scissors.

Rosie fell to safety and they retreated back into the depths of Moria, the creature pulling down stone and rubble to block the doorway.

"Well, I guess we're stuck here," Andyalf said, lighting his staff, his head scattering the light to the whole company. "It's a four day journey, so we better get started."

…

They had just climbed a long, steep flight of stairs when Andyalf suffered a memory loss at three doorways. Old age, you know. So they sat a while until Rosie noticed something. She scrambled over to Andyalf.

"Hey, there's something freaky down there!"

"Gollum," the wizard replied. "He's been behind us for three days."

"Cheeze, thanks a lot for telling us," Rosie said indignantly. "Man, he just wigs me out. Bilbo should've killed him when he had the chance."

"And what makes you think you can judge him? Just because of how he acts. You'd be a hypocrite to say that. Everybody has double standards and plays favorites."

"Ooo-kay…"

"Hey, let's go. It's this way." The wizard stood.

"He remembered!" Merry exclaimed.

"No, it smells better," Andyalf said.

Bobomir sneered. "And this is the guy who's leading us?"

"At least it's not Merry."

"Hey, I heard that, Rosie!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They entered a large cavern, and Andyalf intensified the light, proclaiming, "Behold, Dwarrodelf!"

"Woo-hoo," Rosie said, twirling her pointer fingers once in the air. "A bunch of stone pillars."

"Oh, no!" Ilmig cried as she rushed into an adjacent room. A shaft of light fell on a stone coffin.

Andyalf read the inscription. "Balin, son of Fundin. Hmm…" Then he picked up an ancient book and began to read. Ilmig dried her tears with her beard and stood up.

The book turned out to be a record of the invasion that had littered so many dwarves at the entryway.

"Something about drums in the deep… yadda yadda… cannot get out… blah, blah, blah… more drums… they are coming."

While everyone listened to Andyalf, Hunter got bored and began playing with a skeleton sitting on the edge of a well. As the wizard finished, the head of the skeleton dropped into the well, banging the sides. The short hobbit snatched back his hands, but the whole skeleton fell, dragging the well bucket and chain after it. When the last of the echoes died away, Andyalf closed the book with a thump.

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time, and then you will be no further nuisance."

Silence.

Then the drums.


	16. again with moria

Rosie drew the glowing blue Sting from its sheath.

"Dorcs!" Legolson cried, readying his machete. Bobomir ran to the door and foolishly stuck his head out. Several arrows thudded into the door perilously close to his head. Aragorn helped Bobomir heave the door shut, and then he strung his bow.

They stood fast.

All four hobbits drew their short swords. Andyalf gripped Glamdring while Legolson brandished his machete.

They stood at the ready.

The door heaved as dorcs pounded it from the outside.

Still they stood.

Ilmig stood atop the crypt and brandished her scissors.

"Grrr!" she cried defiantly.

Yet they stood.

Swords began to break through the door. Every muscle tensed for action.

They stood.

Then the door broke open and dorcs spilled in, only to be swiftly felled by Aragorn's arrows. In a short period of time, they were too close for the bow, and he drew his sword, Legolson's machete not far behind. They hacked dorcs to pieces, though not stemming the tide. Surprisingly agile for an old wizard, Andyalf twirled and dodged as he attacked. The hobbits charged in unison, ducking between legs and under blades. From her vantage point on the tomb, Ilmig easily swept heads from shoulders with a snap of her scissors.

Then the frenzy hushed as a large bulk pushed its way into the room. Wil looked up in horrified astonishment. Before them towered a cave troll being led on a chain by a dorc.

"Oh, how cute!" Rosie managed to get out before it bellowed and raised its mace threateningly. Wil dragged the oblivious hoodie bearer out of the way as the club came smashing into the floor she had been standing on.

Ilmig hurled a nearby spear into the creature's chest, then jumped as the club decimated the sarcophagus. Meanwhile, Aragorn and Andyalf fended off dorcs and Bobomir hacked off limbs. Up on a ledge, Legolson wielded two wicked hunting knives, dispatching dorc after dorc.

The troll pulled its chain free of its master and whipped it at the elf. The chain wrapped itself around a pillar and pulled taught, providing a convenient bridge for Legolson. He stood on the beast's head and shot an arrow into the flesh. The troll cried out in pain, and Legolson leaped nimbly to the ground.

Wil, who had been somewhat a bystander in the whole deal, was accosted by two dorcs who suddenly found themselves on the ground, having been dealt a crushing blow with Wil's solid iron frying pan. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," Wil said.

The troll, having recovered form the arrow shot, had cornered Rosie and was chasing her around a pillar.

On the other side of the chamber, a dorc charged Bobomir, who stood firm, grinning like an idiot. At the last minute, he stepped aside as the dorc sped past.

"Ooh, can't touch this!" he taunted, then broke out a little dance move. "Na, nanana, can't touch this!"

Back at the pillar, the troll suddenly changed direction and backed Rosie into a corner. Aragorn jumped between them and shoved a pike into its belly. The troll squealed in agony and flung the man like a rag doll. Then it pulled the pike from its stomach.

Rosie tried to dodge but was blocked.

Then the pike struck home.

She groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Merry and Hunter jumped the troll and stabbed its back with their knife-like swords.

Rosie's breath escaped her, and she began to slump to the ground.

"Rosie!" Wil cried, and he bashed in dorc heads with renewed determination.

Rosie's head lolled back as she collapsed to the stones.

The troll plucked Merry off its back and threw her into Bobomir. It then leaned back to shake Hunter off when Legolson threw a long knife in its neck. This proved too much for it, for it swayed, then toppled like a tree.

The eight of the fellowship rushed to Rosie. Aragorn rolled her onto her back, and she drew a shuddering breath. Seeing her still alive, Wil rushed to her side.

"She's alive," he said with obvious relief.

Rosie sat up, gasping and clutching the gaping hole in her tunic.

"I'm ok. Don't mind me."

"How the heck did you not get killed?" Hunter demanded.

Rosie smirked.

"That's for me to know, and you to… not know."

"Rosie…" Andyalf warned.

The hobbit sighed and opened her tunic to reveal the shimmering mithril armor.

"Sivre ubre sub-ubre," she said sagely.

"Oh, cool!" Ilmig exclaimed. "It's so pretty!"

Just then, shrieking and clanking of metal reminded them that the dorcs had not given up.

They fled through the great halls of Dwarrodelf with hordes of dorcs on their tail. The dorcs poured from cracks and clung to walls and pillars, swarming in on the nine from all directions. Finally, the fellowship pulled into a tight circle, backs to each other and weapons drawn, preparing for one of those last stands where all are inevitably killed.

From somewhere in the depths, a menacing giggle arose. The swarming mass froze, then swiftly dissipated, returning to their cracks in haste.

Now alone in the great hall, the fellowship turned to look at the doorway through which this insane laughter was floating. Andyalf's face drained of color.

"Run!" he shouted.

They fled blindly in the other direction, passing through a doorway and stumbling down steps. Bobomir barely caught himself from plummeting several thousand feet when the staircase took a sharp turn. They wound their way down the staircase that was placed all alone in a huge cavern for Eru only knows what reason. They were brought up short by a gap in the stairs where the stone had crumbled away.

Legolson, ever the intrepid adventurer, leaped across without hesitation, then turned to help Andyalf across.

The dorcs at that time regained their courage and rained arrows down on them. Fortunately, dorcs have poor eyesight, for not a single arrow found its mark. Bobomir jumped across with Merry and Hunter, and Aragorn hurled Wil to Legolson. He made to grab Ilmig, but she pulled away.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing? I don't think so." With that, the plucky young dwarf jumped the distance, barely making it, and then only by reason of Legolson grabbing her beard.

Just then, the portion of stone upon which Aragorn and Rosie still stood, that same stone that had remained immovable for centuries, crumbled beneath their feet. The two leaped back onto solid stone, but a massive boulder crushed the stairs behind them and their portion sheared away from its support, sliding toward their friends. The two rock stairs conveniently touched for a moment, allowing Aragorn and Rosie to walk across. Thus rejoined, the nine continued their flight. They reached the bottom of the stairs and began to make their way across the bridge, when out of the flames behind them came a maniac giggle.

Then it appeared.

Legolson's face went livid.

"Marshie," he whispered in horror.

"What?" Rosie questioned. "A giant marshmallow?"

For indeed it was just that. The large, puffy, white shape towered more than twice the height of a man. It had squinting eyes and a mirthless smile. It floated just above the ground, and there was a large bite taken out of its top right corner.

"Not just a marshmallow," Legolson replied in fear. "Marshie, the mascot and "spokesperson" for Fluffy-puff marshmallows. It is one of the greatest evils known."

"Hi, kids!" the monstrosity said in a falsely cheerful voice.

"Ahh! Run faster!" Andyalf yelled.

They reached the other end of the bridge, except for the wizard who turned halfway over it to face Marshie.

"You cannot pass!" he cried.

"But I'm fluffety!" the marshmallow protested.

Andyalf flinched, but retorted, "I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. Your poisoned words will not avail you!"

"I'm puffety!" Marshie threw the words at him.

Andyalf cried out and staggered, but remained upright. "Go back to the shadow!"

Marshie floated closer to the wizard.

"You shall not pass!" Andyalf raised his staff and crashed it down on the bridge. The half on which Marshie was floating broke away, and the "air-puffed sugar delight" fell. As the confection dropped, it yelled, "Fluffy-puff!!" The reverberation shook the remaining half of the bridge, and Andyalf stumbled over the edge.

"Andyalf! No!" Rosie sobbed.

Just before he plummeted out of reach, he whispered his last command.

"Fly, you fools!"

Then he was gone.

In slow motion, the eight dodged dorc arrows and fled up the steps, stumbling in their grief. When they broke into the fresh mountain air at the top, the hobbits collapsed on the snowy ground to cry their fill. The others were suitably solemn.

"Legolson," Aragorn grunted. He beckoned to the hobbits.

"Uh, you want me to comfort them?" Legolson guessed.

Aragorn shook his head.

"Play them a song?"

He shook his head again.

"Make them tea?"

Another head shake.

"Why don't you just say it? It'd be easier."

Aragorn sighed and pulled the hobbits to their feet. Soon they were on their way again.

…

If you don't already know, Marshie can be found on the wonderful website wwwdothomestarrunnerdotcom. Specificly, he's in "toons" and then "shorts." Of course, that's assuming you want to see this horror. But check out the site anyway. Its funny.


	17. Lothlorien

The fellowship made their way through a serene forest. At a stream, they broke for lunch and Legolson played his guitar for them and sang a song about Nimrodel. Ilmig, however, was somewhat mistrustful of the wood, due to an unfortunate incident in her childhood involving a tree, a younger brother, and lots of rope.

"Stay close to me, hobbits," she whispered. "Some sort of elf-witch lives here. I wouldn't wander too near any of those trees if I were you. But don't worry. I'll protect you against any—eep!" She was brought up short by an arrow two inches from her nose. They had been surrounded by Lothlorien elves while she was yapping, and now they took the eight to the hugest tree Rosie had ever seen.

They climbed endless steps through an eerie silver twilight. Up and up they went until Rosie couldn't see the ground anymore. By the time they reached the top, half of them were panting with exhaustion.

Gasping, Rosie looked up, only to be blinded by a white light. As she squinted and shaded her eyes, two figures approached from the glow, eventually coming to where they could be seen.

There was a male elf with long, straight blond hair, and at his side was a regal looking female elf. Her grey eyes were gentle, yet piercing, and her golden tresses flowed in ringlets like ramen noodle soup. She wore glistening white robes, and a pearly white cloak draped gracefully from her shoulders like wings.

After a moment of stunned silence, she spoke.

"Welcome to Iowa."

The male elf quickly said, "Actually, G-bird, it's Lothlorien."

G-bird turned to him.

"Shatap, Celeborn. I'm lady of the wood; I can call it Iowa if I want to. Now, where were we? Oh, that's right. Role call, Celeborn."

"Right." The elf drew a parchment out of his robes and began treading off names. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn?"

The ranger grunted.

"Bobomir of Gondor?"

"Hey."

"Meriadoc Wagnabuck?"

"Here!"

"Huntagrin Took?"

"Here."

"Ilmig Otrec?"

"Hereherehere!" she cried, waving her arm.

"Mmm… hmm… Legolson prince of Mirkwood?"

"Yeah."

"Wilibald Gamgee?"

"I'm here."

"Rosie Bag'ems?"

"Present in the body, absent in the mind."

Celeborn glared at her.

"Not funny. Andyalf?"

He looked up.

"Andyalf?"

The fellowship stirred uncomfortably.

"Ok, what did you do with Andyalf?"

"He fell into the shadow," G-bird remarked. "The quest now is in danger. But don't worry about that. Go and sleep well." As she spoke this last word, her voice echoed in the vaults of Rosie's mind.

_Welcome, Rosie of the Shire, one who has seen the Nose!_

Suddenly, G-bird let out a little shriek. Her glowing face paled, and she pointed a shaky finger at the hobbits' feet.

"They—they're not wearing shoes! Leave! Now!" She disappeared back into the light, and an elf ushered the eight down the steps.

"What's her problem?" Merry asked.

"She has a little phobia of feet," the elf replied. "You can still stay here, but try to keep any bare feet away from her."

…

The fellowship lounged on the downy grass beneath a canopy at the roots of the trees. Strange music involving an acoustic guitar and a warbly, drawling vocalist floated on the breeze.

Leaning against a tree, Legolson thrummed his own guitar, but didn't sing.

"A lament for Andyalf," He explained to his compatriots.

"What're they saying?" Merry asked.

"I have not the heart to tell you," he responded. "For me, the grief is still too near."

"Tell me about it," muttered Rosie, her hands over her ears. "I can't _stand_ country music."

"Me either," Wil agreed vehemently, making a face.

Aragorn wandered over to where Bobomir was sitting.

"Rest," he grunted.

"Man, I can't." Bobomir sighed. "I heard her voice in my head. It was creepy."

Aragorn nodded in agreement.

"Gondor is doomed," the short blond continued. "She said there's still hope, but how the heck am I s'posed to see it?" he sighed. "One day, we'll go back there, man, and it will be so cool…"

…

Rosie woke as G-bird stepped past softly. A little amazed that she, such a sound sleeper, had woken so easily, the hobbit decided to follow. Past the others, down steps, and into a courtyard they she followed the elf. There, in the middle of the grass stood a low stone pedestal with a silver birdbath in the center. G-bird dipped a pitcher into a fountain and began to fill her birdbath when she saw Rosie.

"Oh!" she cried. "What are you doing here? I mean, um… will you look into my mirror?"

"That's a bird bath," Rosie remarked.

"Shatap," the elf snapped. "You. Look. Now."

Cautiously, Rosie stepped up to the birdbath and peered into it. Her reflection in the water wavered, and she seemed to see Kermit the frog and Fozzy bear.

"What… The Muppets?" Rosie said incredulously.

"Oops. Sorry," G-bird apologized. "I must have left it on the wrong channel." She muttered in elvish, and then the Muppets vanished.

Rosie then saw her companions staring at her accusingly. They faded and were replaced by a vision of the Shire, suddenly bursting to flames. Dorcs roved about, burning houses, chaining and whipping hobbits. At long last, this spectre also disappeared and in its place came the Nose, the great Nose of Perron, burning in eternal fire. It inhaled and smelled, searching, ever seeking the hoodie. The drawstrings came loose and stretched towards the surface of the water, growing heavier and heavier, dragging Rosie downwards.

"Don't touch the water!" G-bird cried.

The vision disappeared and Rosie stumbled back.

"You know he'll try to take the hoodie."

"Who—" Rosie began.

"You know who," G-bird said.

"No, I don't."

"Shatap. The fellowship is breaking."

"Well, this isn't as easy as it looks," Rosie said crossly. "What, do _you_ want the hoodie?"

"You offer it to me freely!" the elf said with delight.

"Hey, wait a minute…"

"In place of a dark lord, you will set up a Queen!" she continued. "And I shall not be dark, but beautiful, and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the Earth! All shall love me and despair!"

As she spoke, she flickered into a film negative, and her voice took on a deep, ringing, dual tone.

When she finished, she was returned to normal.

"Ooo-kay." Rosie slowly backed away, keeping her eyes on G-bird. "I think I'm going back to bed now."

…

No, I don't own the Muppets either, in case you were wondering. Yeah, I know, you probably weren't, but I had to say it anyway, just in case. Hey, you never know.


	18. The Anduin

"History lesson!" Puffkinman called. His dorcs huddled around him, eager to listen.

"Long ago, elves were subverted and made evil. They developed into you! Dorcs! But not just any dorcs. Now I've perfected you! You are Uruk-hai!

"Now, whom do you serve?"

"Puffkinman!" they chanted.

"Whom do you serve?"

"PUFFKINMAN!!!!"

"Now go and kick some butt!!!"

"YEEAAAHHHHH!!!"

"Oh, um, hey, you." Puffkinman stayed the dorc captain. "The Halflings have something important. Bring them back alive and unspoiled. You know what to do with the rest."

…

The fellowship rowed down the Anduin River in silence, each absorbed in thought. Rosie recalled her parting words with G-bird.

"_Sorry for freaking you out like that," the elf apologized. "Here. To make up for it, you can have this." She handed the hobbit a glass vial. "It is the light of Elendil, our most beloved star. I thought you might want to read at night or something."_

"_Yeah," Wil piped up. "You've still got my book, Rosie."_

She was broken out of her reverie by Aragorn grunting, "Look."

They had reached a narrow place between the two cliff faces. The rock had been carved into the images of two great kings, each with a hand out. At the top, where the sculptures rose above the surface of the cliffs, great blocks of stone had been put together and carved into the majestic heads.

"Argonath," Aragorn whispered.

The eight stared in awe at the ancient carvings towering now above their heads.

Just before Rauros Falls, they pulled onto the bank.

They talked amongst themselves as they set up camp. Ilmig spoke of Mordor, and Legolson warned Aragorn against staying long. Suddenly, they realized that Rosie was not with them.

…

Rosie wandered through the woods and among the ruins, enjoying the solitude. She loved being outside alone.

Then that little blond twerp came along and spoiled it.

"Hey, y'know, you really shouldn't be out here alone," Bobomir said.

Rosie glared at him wordlessly.

"You suffer; I see it. Give me the hoodie so I can RULE THE WOR— umm… I mean, so you don't have to suffer."

"Don't even try to pretend," Rosie retorted. " I can see right through you. You just want the hoodie for yourself!"

"No, I just, uh… GIVE IT TO ME!"

He jumped the hobbit and dragged her to the ground, clawing at the black hoodie.

"AAAH! Get off me! Get away!"

Rosie, in desperation, raised the hood and disappeared.

"Hey, where'd you go?" Bobomir scrambled about in the leaves. "You're a traitor! You'll take it to Perron!"

He rose to his feet, only to trip and fall face down in the dirt. The blow to his head seemed to knock some sense into him.

"Oh, no! I'm sorry! What have I done?"

But Rosie was long gone, racing up half crumbled steps.

"Oh, ew, ew, yuckyuckyuck," she muttered. "That was so gross."

At the top of the stairs, a tall dark tower confronted her. Perched on the tower was the Nose of Perron. Horrified, Rosie stared as it turned in her direction. She jerked away and tumbled off the stone platform, her hood falling off.

"Rosie!" Aragorn approached.

"Oh, man, déjà vu," She muttered, and took cover in the ruins. "Stay away!"

Aragorn approached and took her hand.

"I will protect you."

Rosie gaped.

"A sentence!" She cried. "You said a whole sentence! You must really mean it!"

All of a sudden, Aragorn stood and drew his sword. Rosie glanced at Sting and saw it was glowing blue. Aragorn turned to defend her, and then called, "Run. Run!"

Rosie ran.

Aragorn strode to meet the dorcs, and as they charged, dealt blow after deadly blow.

"Find the Halfling!" the dorc captain bellowed.

At this order, the dorcs abandoned Aragorn and spread over the hill.

Legolson and Ilmig arrived to help Aragorn. Ilmig thrust and snapped her lethal scissors. The elf deftly dodged attacks and hacked at the enemies.

Meanwhile, Rosie tumbled down the hill and scrambled behind a large tree. A few feet away, she spotted Merry and Hunter in shrubbery behind a log. Glancing at the dorcs above them, they beckoned their friend t hide with them, but Rosie looked away with a pained expression.

"What's she doing?" Hunter asked his sister.

"She's leaving," Merry replied darkly.

They scrambled out of their hiding spot, and faced Rosie.

"Run," Merry whispered to her. "Go, Rosie."

The siblings then turned to the dorcs and yelled to get their attention.

"Hey! You! Over here!"

"Hey, big butt!" Hunter called. "Come and get me!"

"Hunter! Don't call them names!" Merry reprimanded as they sped away from Rosie and the dorcs.

Taking the opportunity, Rosie ran in the opposite direction.

"It's working!" Hunter cried.

"I know it's working," Merry said. "Run!"

Farther up the hill, Aragorn, Legolson, and Ilmig were making short work of the dorcs. Aragorn wielded Anduril with unmatched ferocity. At his back, the dwarf's blades flashed in the sunlight as she whirled and ducked, chopping at arms and necks. Legolson also beheaded many dorcs, moving with an uncanny agility.

Merry and Hunter still ran down the slope, but the dorcs soon overtook them. As the monsters advanced, Bobomir charged from behind the hobbits. He caught the battle-axe as it fell towards Hunter, and kicked the dorc in the stomach. He then turned the axe against its owner and buried his throwing knife in another dorc's neck.

As Legolson, Aragorn, and Ilmig finished, they heard a horn blast.

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolson said. The three dashed off to aid their companion.

Still the dorcs rushed at Bobomir. He fought valiantly, but could tell it was a losing battle and commanded the hobbits to run. They scampered back a few paces, but then stood watching Bobomir fend off the dorcs.

Unseen by the Gondorian, the captain of the dorcs stood on the slope above and drew his bow, aiming carefully. He let the arrow fly.

Bobomir stumbled to his knees as the arrow caught his left shoulder. Stubbornly, he rose and cut down another dorc.

The captain moved closer and shot another arrow. Bobomir took it in his stomach and was once again driven to his knees. With an effort, he forced himself up, still defending the hobbits. Three more dorcs fell before another arrow embedded itself in Bobomir's chest. Again he fell to his knees, but could not rise.

Hunter and Merry raised their short swords and charged the dorcs with a cry, but they were simply picked up and carried along as the horde swept past Bobomir, helpless on his knees.

Soon, only the captain was left, mere steps from Bobomir, aiming the last arrow. Before he could loose it, he was knocked to the ground. Aragorn, having raced to Bobomir's aid, stood and deflected a blow from the crude dorc blade. The captain threw him back against a tree. A dorc shield was not far behind, and two spikes on the sides of the shield stuck in the tree on either side of Aragorn's neck, trapping him. As the captain swung at the ranger's head, Aragorn ducked under the shield and rolled past.

The dorc slammed his sword into the ground in an effort to hit him, but Aragorn pulled a dagger and thrust it deep into his adversary's thigh. Snarling in pain, the dorc punched the man in the face and dragged him up by his collar. Aragorn was savagely thrown to the ground, and he rolled several feet away, coming up on his knees. The dorc pulled the knife from his leg and threw it at his foe. Aragorn swung his sword and hit the dagger out of the air.

He then stood and the two clashed swords until Aragorn sliced off the dorc's sword arm. He immediately impaled the dorc. Dying, the dorc pulled himself along the blade, closer to Aragorn. The ranger jerked back, whipped his sword out of the dorc's chest, and cleanly swiped off the head.

He stood victorious for a moment, and then rushed to Bobomir's side.

"I tried to take the hoodie from Rosie," The dying man confessed. "I am sorry. I have paid. They have gone… the Halflings… the dorcs have taken them. I think they are not dead. Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people. I have failed." Bobomir smiled, and then spoke no more.

……………………………………………………….

Rosie stood on the pebbly bank, looking down at the hoodie. Then she pushed a boat off the shore and hopped in, rowing out toward the middle of the river.

Wil, who had somehow managed to evade the dorcs, charged through the trees and onto the bank.

"Rosie! Rosie, stop!" After a moment's hesitation, he began walking into the river towards the boat.

"No, Wil! Go back!" Rosie ordered.

"I don't think so!" he retorted. "You still have my book!"

"You can't swim!" Rosie cried, just as Wil's head plunged beneath the surface.

"Wil!"

Wil floated, semi-conscious, just under the surface. Rosie's hand reached down and grabbed Wil's wrist. She dragged him into the boat.

"I made a promise," Wil said, in one of his rare serious moods. " 'Don't you leave her, Wilibald Gamgee.' And I don't mean to."

"Oh, Wil."

The friends embraced as tears coursed down their cheeks.

"Ack!" Rosie pulled back. "Now I'm all wet!"

…

Bobomir rested peacefully in an unsinkable elvish boat, the arrows pulled, his sword and horn on his chest. The spoils from the dorcs he had slain lay around him. The boat drifted down the river, and vanished over golden Rauros-falls.

"Hurry!" Legolson pushed the remaining boat into the water. "Rosie and Wil have reached the eastern shore." He paused and looked up at Aragorn, who was not moving. "You mean not to follow them?"

Aragorn shook his head.

"It's all for nothing then," Ilmig moaned.

Aragorn shook his head again.

"Merry. Pippin," he said.

After a moment, comprehension lit Ilmig and Legolson's faces.

"Let's go kick some dorc booty!" Legolson cried.

"Yeeeaaahhh!" Ilmig charged after her two companions.

…

Rosie and Wil paused on the top of a ridge and gazed over at the smoldering Mount Loom.

"Mordor," Rosie said. "I hope the others will find a safer road. We'll probably never see them again."

"You never know, Rosie," Wil said.

"I'm glad you're here, Wil," Rosie told him. They continued on down the slope towards Mordor.


	19. Pity the Seagull

The grey green waves rolled on as far as the eye could see. In every direction the ocean stretched to meet the horizon. Flecks of foam dotted the surface and strands of seaweed anchored to the ocean floor drifted to and fro.

Dwarfed by the immensity of the ocean, a small grey boat floated in the midst of the water, gently rocked by the waves. The boat was filled with water and silt, but had spilled none of its precious cargo.

The sky above mirrored the sea below. It, too, was dark and grey, and here and there wisps of white cloud roiled past. Also like the sea, the monotony of the sky was broken only by a small grey figure. The gull soared and wheeled high above the boat. It dove, dropping like a stone, to sit in the boat to rest its wearied wings. As the bird settled in the craft…

Sorry. If you are one of the select few, you'll probably be busting a gut laughing right now. If not, then don't worry about it. Just pretend that wasn't there.

Anyway, as you probably figured, the Fellowship of the Hoodie is completed. However, I will not be writing the other two. You will have to be content with this one, and your imagination of how the others would be. There are many reasons why I am not continuing. Among those reasons are my lack of time, and some odd plot contradictions I made that will make the others much more difficult.

But on the bright side, I am throwing a New Years Eve party for the characters in the next chapter, so this isn't the last you will see of them. If there's someone from TTT or RotK that you want to see at the party, email me (preferably before new years eve) and I'll see about it.


	20. Happy New Year!

"Freydia! Get away from the cheese!"

The little blonde girl with the smudged face looked up, and then scampered away, but not before taking another handful of the cheddar cubes.

Isilhén sighed. The guests would be coming any minute, and the food was rapidly disappearing into Freydia's mouth, especially the cheese.

The king of Rohan had graciously agreed to let her use his hall for her New Years Eve party. She would've held it at Rivendell, but then a visit from K-rond was almost assured.

Isilhén took one last glance around the hall. Long tables laden with food lined the side walls, and chairs were strategically placed around the room. A stage with a curtained backdrop had been set up in front of the dais partly to discourage anyone from sitting on the throne. The ceiling and pillars had been strung with white Christmas lights.

"They're here!" Freydia sang.

As if on cue, guests began pouring through the door.

The hobbits came first, having all come together.

"Hey, Isilhén!" Merry said. "Like what you've done with the place!"

"Food!" Hunter cried.

"No, wait, Hunter!" Isilhén charged after him, but had to stop to greet more guests. Megwen had arrived with Aragorn.

"Hi, Megwen!"

"Hello, Isilhén," she said. "Oh, look! Hobbits!"

"Gaah! Stay away!" Wil cried.

"All right! Let's get this party started!"

Isilhén turned to see Legolson coming in.

"Hey, where's the band?" he asked.

"They haven't come yet."

Suddenly, the door flew open, and a blazing white figure strode in, holding one of those old, tall, wooden stools.

Unfazed, Isilhén greeted him.

"Andyalf! I'm glad you could—"

"Hey, you little munchkin! Give me back my cheese!"

Isilhén turned around.

"Freydia! Leave Hunter alone!"

"Hhelllooo!!!"

Isilhén turned again to see a tall blonde come in. Her short spikey hair had a lock of pink at the forehead, and she trailed glitter like Pigpen trails dirt.

"Raeowyn! Hhelllooo! It's good to see you!"

"Well, it_ is _my home, after all…"

Behind Raeowyn, a girl looking suspiciously like Megwen, only without the pointy ears, entered.

"Maranwé! How are you?" Isilhén said. "Long time, no see."

"Oh, you know how it is."

"How's your horse?"

"Quite well," Maranwé said.

"Fireworks! Fireworks!" the hobbits chanted.

"Uh, oh…" Isilhén made her way across the hall. "What is going on here?"

Andyalf quickly hid a large firecracker behind his back.

"Nothing."

"Andyalf—"

"Hey, loser! Don't you even greet your guests?"

Isilhén turned back to the door.

"Rioni! You made it!"

"Of course I did," she said. "You didn't really think I'd miss a party, did you?"

"Isilhén, who's this?" Raeowyn wandered over with a glass of punch.

"This is Rioni Riishu, my bestest friendest in the entirest worldest. Rioni, this is my hairdresser, Raeowyn."

Just then, a voice echoed through everyone's minds. _I am here!_

"G-bird! I told you not to do that!" Isilhén called, stomping towards the door.

"Sorry." The elf stepped inside, followed by Celeborn.

"Hey, there's a mushroom on the ceiling!" Rioni cried.

"What? Where, where?" The hobbits clambered over to her, pushing each other and tripping over their own feet. "I want it!"

"It's only a paper decoration!" Isilhén told them.

"Sorry I'm late!" The spunky little dwarf skipped in. "I couldn't find my tuba for a while." She lifted the gigantic instrument a few inches.

"How could you lose a tuba?" Megwen asked.

As Isilhén looked around, a girl with spikey blue anime hair with a shimmery white lock at her forehead stepped in.

"Jete! What are you doing here?" Isilhén asked.

"Well, it was getting kinda boring in that other story, and I heard you were having a party."

"You weren't invited."

Jete narrowed her eyes.

"You aren't going to throw me out, are you?"

Isilhén sighed.

"No, I guess not."

"Great! Come in, guys!"

"Hey, wait!" Isilhén protested. "I thought it was just you!… is Gaib here?"

"Nope," Iddo said as he walked in, Cheeseball perched on his shoulder. "He's tied up in Florgurl's fic. It's just us there."

"Dorc!" Aragorn shouted at the other side of the room.

"Hey! Don't call names!" a voice said.

Aragorn drew his sword.

'Oh, no," Isilhén raced to his side and snatched the sword from his hand. Before him cowered a young dorc with a pile of cookies on a napkin.

"That's Max, the dancing dorc boy. He's not bad," Isilhén explained.

"Hey, I'm not Max! I'm Maks!" the dorc said.

"Fine, fine, whatever. It sounds the same. Where's the band, Maks?"

Maks shrugged.

"They got a better gig."

"Oh, well, that's nice," Isilhén muttered.

"No band? That's all right. I'm here!" Faramir stepped through the door holding his guitar aloft. His mop of curly blond hair fell in his eyes as he grinned at the crowd. Behind him, his shorter brother came in carrying a bottle in each hand.

"I brought the champagne!" Bobomir said.

"No, nonono." Isilhén pushed him back out the door. "No alcohol." She gestured over to where the hobbits had improvised a game of limbo. "You don't want them near champagne. Trust me, you don't. … Hey, you're supposed to be dead!"

"Andyalf's here!"

CRASH!

"It wasn't me, I didn't do it!"

"Oh, dear." Isilhén decided not to go investigate. Instead, she scanned the room to see what her guests were doing.

Maks had joined the limbo line, and at the table next to them, Andyalf sat on his stool guzzling Pepsi.

Maranwé and Megwen stood chatting a little ways away.

"You are so cool, Megwen."

"No, you are, Maranwé."

"No, You're cooler."

"You are."

"We both are. Hug!"

They moved to hug each other, but backed off at the last moment.

"Six inches!" They cried simultaneously.

Freydia was chasing Cheeseball around the room, and Iddo was limping out of the room. Something had made the poor guy break out in orange and yellow spots.

"Oh, I love the hair!" Raeowyn cried, as she rushed over to Jete. "Isilhén! Get a picture of us!"

The two spikey haired girls posed as the camera flashed.

On the stage, Legolson and Faramir were trying to assemble a band.

"Ok, who here plays an instrument?" Faramir asked.

"Ooh, ooh, mee!" Ilmig waved her hand.

Aragorn's hand went up.

"What do you play?" Celeborn asked him.

"Flute."

"French horn!" Maks called.

"Umm… Well, maybe some other time, guys," Legolson said. "All right, Faramir. Let's get down with our bad selves!"

They began "jamming," if that's what you can call it, and Rioni ran over to Isilhén.

"Come on, ojesan! You have to sing with me!"

"Oh, I don't want to…"

"Come on!" Rioni dragged her toward the stage, but Isilhén tripped over a chair.

"Watch out, Gracie," her friend said. "The chairs like to ambush you."

Once on stage, they began to sing to Legolson and Faramir's tuneless strumming, switching arbitrarily from song to song.

At one point, Ilmig interrupted them.

"Tuba solo!"

She began playing the chicken dance song, until the guitars drowned her out.

"Hey, everyone!" Rosie yelled, "Thirteen seconds!"

All heads turned to the large clock rapidly counting down to midnight.

"Ten!" Rosie yelled.

"Nine!" The others took up the chant.

"Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!"


End file.
